


Two government creatures talk into a bar...

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Crossover Pairings, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Porn Battle, Talking During Sex, the least serious thing I have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says in the tags. Mycroft won't stop solving Harry's imaginary problems during sex and Harry half doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two government creatures talk into a bar...

The door opened. When Harry turned around and saw who it was, a haphazard pileup of quills and crumpled Daily Prophets flew off the desk.

"You can't get in here," he said. He steadily didn't look at the photos tittering under him at his reddened face. "Okay, I gather that you're here right now, but you can't be here."

Mycroft twirled his umbrella two even ellipses before he responded. "Can't I?"

"This is Ministry property!" Harry could feel his voice growing louder, but he couldn't bring himself to care when a man who uprooted most of the Finances Department to the Maldives showed up for the first time in years. "At least close the door!"

"Mummy has always said we come from a family of ministers." Mycroft bowed. A little ironic arch hit his eyebrows and disappeared before Harry could comment on it, so he resorted to harrumphing and turning away from Mycroft who, accustomed to more attention, poked Harry in the back with the umbrella tip.

"Ouch," Harry said. He was really doing his best not to look up again. "Try that on a troll instead sometime, couldn't you? Maybe your minister blood will protect you."

Mycroft stepped over and scanned Harry's papers with a speed Harry had always envied. "Is that the newest little nuisance to trouble the illustrious Harry Potter."

"More than little."

"I could persuade a few, ah, higher placed colleagues to look at your little trolls," Mycroft said, picking up papers and replacing them in precisely the right positions to destroy what meager organization had originally been present. Harry shook his head, his hair flopping around his eyes no more neatly than the papers, and made a last attempt to not see Mycroft. A problem that Mycroft didn't see probably didn't exist; Harry hoped the same would work for him. "Or my brother, should you have a preference."

"Sherlock?" Harry briefly entertained a hope of the man "needing" two entire departments to follow him to Finland, then decided even a city too cold for spells to keep his feet intact and too troll-infested to keep his sleeping schedule regular shouldn't be inflicted with that eccentric. "Thanks, but I think you're enough."

Then he made the mistake of turning around.

He shouldn't find the umbrella so _interesting_ , but it was hard not to recall the last thing they'd done with it, on a long lonely night with only Harry's plans for taking down Lestrange's old network and Mycroft, smiling, the tip of the thing tapping Harry's chest like a schoolmaster's reprimand. Or the various other places it had made residence later. Mycroft had one hand curled around it and nothing on, just Mycroft naked with his other hand curled lightly around his cock. "Enough?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. He watched Mycroft rock in his chair for a while, thinking of the size of the troll population and not himself growing under his trousers. "Can we talk about my problems, as you said?"

Mycroft shrugged, very slowly. "Do come here, first, but say what you like."

"Well, there's this freak biological phenomenon happening in the north, you see— could you not bring that thing so close to my asshole," Harry added, as he settled into the armchair on top of Mycroft. "You wouldn't believe how embarrassing it was to explain how I got the last injury."

"I imagine."

Harry let Mycroft deal with his shirt and tugged at his own underwear. (He didn't understand why Mycroft couldn't appear conveniently at home, when he could wear Muggle T-shirts or nothing at all instead of all these bloody buttons.) "Higher ups say, diplomacy or something, we should send Aurors. Not just me, but two Aurors, can you believe? For sixteen ogres."

"Both trolls and ogres," Mycroft said, almost approvingly. He had managed to pull off the offending clothing and tented his hands around Harry's cock, imitating his thinking action so accurately with his palms Harry had to laugh and choke a second later as Mycroft started stroking up and down. "You would be very busy. I do think there are physiological differences you might take into consideration, and given the propensity of one type to act like crass human beings, the British government would have to involve different response teams."

"Different responses— whatever we do, you shouldn't do anything different," as Mycroft brushed his hand over the head of Harry's cock, and again, and tangled his fingers in Harry's hair in the same movement to pull him closer. Their noses almost touch. Harry could practically breathe into Mycroft's mouth and Mycroft was still so serious. "What should we do first?"

"Logistics. Entry visas." Mycroft relaxed his knees and spread his legs a little wider. Mycroft was offering him his thighs, a slight sheen of sweat on his legs, and still willingly speaking of visas. "Do you know how difficult it is to enter even the Nordic countries these days with the threat of your magical invaders everywhere?"

"And how would we," Harry asked, pushing forward to get more of Mycroft's skin, enjoying how hot Mycroft felt around him even though nothing was visible in his face. The man had a upper lip stiffer than his cock against Harry's belly. "Obtain these visas?"

"May I suggest the Floo network," Mycroft said. He had his back arched so he was speaking right along Harry's ear, offering licks between words and a hint of nails between Harry's shoulder blades and a shade of instability seeping into his voice as Harry thrust up against his balls and pressed a finger there from behind, grateful for the chair's cushioning. Mycroft's Adam's apple moved as Harry watched in fascination. "My intelligence tells me that is not closely observed."

"Can't be that easy," Harry whispered. "Easy," he repeated, Mycroft closing his legs tighter around Harry, the soft skin rocking quicker and rougher. "Are you going to keep doing that, fuck— is it? That simple?"

"Not closely observed if one is not trying to sneak protected classes into troll territory."

Harry nipped at Mycroft's jaw, one little bite and another until he could think of something to say. "So if you could fi— someone other than, fuck," he cut off, Mycroft was so slick with his precome it was hard to keep talking, "Sherlock—"

"Must you bring up Sherlock now?"

"You brought up trolls. My g— okay, your great solution, just like that. Just like that. Yes, my God. There's the way." 

He shifted in the warm crevice of Mycroft's thighs and tossed his head back in lieu of continuing, letting Mycroft say mindless (for Mycroft, anyway) things into his neck as he moved forward, his concentration finally given all to his cock, and Mycroft, and not whatever it was about trolls that could wait until tomorrow, or whatever about Mycroft's family that could wait until forever. Mycroft lifted against him. A push and a word and he felt himself coming over Mycroft's legs in pleasure that stupefied every thought of work in his head into submission. Mycroft lasted only seconds longer as he rubbed himself against Harry's slack thighs. He was still saying something about evading sensors that ran through one of Harry's ears and out Harry's mouth in a sigh.

"Then you will consider cleanup," Mycroft said, overloud. "I have resources, should you need them. Could you accio umbrella for me, please, so I may demonstrate?"

"Just give me that handkerchief already," Harry muttered, and buried his head between Mycroft's throat and shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> All kinds of feedback are welcome and appreciated!


End file.
